


this dream-like reality

by Akaluan



Category: Bleach, 幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil (Anime)
Genre: Erich's getting used to having someone love him, Kisuke gets handsy, M/M, Mentions of Sex, but he still has his moments, but they've got this 'boundaries' thing mostly worked out at this point, it's mostly fluffy and feel-good though, morning-after fluff, morning-after panic attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaluan/pseuds/Akaluan
Summary: Erich never thought he'd have this again, waking up next to a lover in a place he can call home, waking up next to someone who cares.(It all feels a bit surreal, sometimes.)





	this dream-like reality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seryphsystem (Slie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [and he tastes like dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14735508) by [seryphsystem (Slie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slie/pseuds/seryphsystem). 



> A followup to Ven's wonderful porn one-shot "and he tastes like dreams". Can be read alone if you don't want to read bdsm fluff-porn.

Erich drifts awake, warm and comfortable and lethargic, body aching pleasantly and Kisuke a heavy, familiar weight along his side and back. Kisuke’s hand smooths down his side in gentle, rhythmic strokes, his power still wrapped around Erich and flooding his senses in feelings he never expected to have directed at him again.

Beautiful, Kisuke had called him last night, voice so confident and _certain_ it made Erich want to protest.

(He wasn’t. He wasn’t — could never be — but Kisuke’s words made the breath catch in his throat and his heart _yearn—_ )

He loves Kisuke. Loves the man as much as he ever loved Alexis; she still holds part of his heart, but Kisuke’s found a place there too, and that’s alright. She would never blame him for his need, his _weakness_ ; she’d have pushed him forward with a smile and a laugh, remind him that _none_ of their family could survive without love of _some_ kind.

She would never mind Erich turning to Kisuke for anything, even with Kisuke being a Reaper; she would never mind, and Erich loves Kisuke enough to _let go_ , to _trust_ —

(And oh, how he trusts; his body still singing with the ghost-whisper memory of silk and leather and vibration. Of being held and restrained and gently coaxed into shattering in his lover’s arms.)

—and maybe even enough to _believe_.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Kisuke murmurs in his ear, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin just below.

Erich shivers and can’t resist moving his head, arching his neck and pulling his shoulder down to expose more of himself, an invitation that Kisuke takes with a chuckle. The man kisses gently down the side of his neck then back up, along his jaw and ending with a brief kiss to the corner of Erich’s mouth.

There’s no passion in the kisses, no attempt at coaxing him into interest, but there’s love and worship and adoration; a silent reaffirmation of all the things Kisuke whispered against his skin the night before. He feels like he’s drowning in the attention, in Kisuke’s _love_ , and it’s all suddenly _too much-not enough_ —

His breath comes in silent pants, sound frozen in his throat in stark contrast to the night before when only the gag muffled his voice.

(It’s too much— he _wants_ too much, _needs_ too much— Kisuke’s words linger in his mind, warm-soft- _kind_ the way Erich is _not_ , has _never been_ —)

( ** _Monster!_ ** )

He wants to say something, make _some_ sound, even if it’s just a wordless noise, but the more he tries the more he _can’t_. There’s so much he wants to ask, to protest— he’s not— he can’t—

( ** _Monster!_ ** )

Kisuke makes a concerned noise and carefully rolls both of them over, pulling Erich across his chest and holding him in place with one arm. “It’s alright, love. Deep breaths,” he says, combing his fingers through Erich’s hair. “I’ve got you.”

Erich flinches, eyes squeezed shut and chin tucked down towards his chest, unable to keep his body from trembling. Kisuke’s heartbeat is a steady rhythm in his ear, the man holding him patiently and continuing to run his fingers through Erich’s hair.

(How could Kisuke put up with this— he’s such a mess—)

He clenches his jaw and reaches up to tangle his fingers in Kisuke’s hair, grounding himself in _Kisuke_.

(Holding Kisuke in place.)

Kisuke holds him through it, holds him as he trembles and struggles for breath and presses closer in an attempt to claim some of Kisuke’s calm. Kisuke holds him till his muscles relax and he finally, _finally_ slumps across the man’s chest, tired and wrung-out and so, so ashamed that he can’t bear to open his eyes.

“Alright?” Kisuke asks, tone concerned. He frees a hand and pulls a sheet over them, then returns to holding Erich close. “Answer how you want, love. Don’t force yourself to speak for my sake.”

Erich swallows, licks dry lips, and hesitantly tries to speak. “It’s— I’m—” he pauses, remembering Alexis—

( _’Pretty lies are well and good for acquaintances and strangers, but if you want this to work, if you want_ **_us_ ** _to work,_ **_please_ ** _speak the truth? I can’t help you if you hide from me, Erich.’_ )

—and swallows back the deflection. “I’ll _be_ fine,” he says. “Just… hold me..?”

“Of course,” Kisuke answers. “Anything for you.”

Erich lets himself drift, hand still tangled in Kisuke’s hair and ear still pressed to his chest, listening to his lover’s heartbeat. It’s soothing, and Erich is going to take advantage of Kisuke’s indulgence as long as the man allows.

Distantly, he can sense Tessai approaching their door and hear the rumble of Kisuke’s voice, but he’s too worn out to bother rousing himself to pay attention. He’s safe, he trusts _both_ of them, and Tessai won’t invade their privacy without good reason; the fact that Tessai’s signature leaves soon after only reaffirms his trust.

He loses track of time.

His body doesn’t.

Hunger rouses him enough to grumble unhappily and shift in an attempt to find another comfortable position. He’s _comfortable_ and doesn’t want to move, but his body’s grown used to regular meals again and it’s harder to ignore than it used to be. Still, _harder_ doesn’t mean _impossible_ , and Erich has plenty of practice at putting aside inconvenient sensations like hunger.

Kisuke laughs softly and trails fingers down the back of his neck and down his spine. “I can hear your stomach grumbling, Erich. Come on, time to get up,” he says, nudging Erich’s side.

“No,” Erich mutters. “I can eat later—”

“Or you can eat now,” Kisuke says. He carefully sits up, holding Erich in place as he does, then tilts Erich’s head up to press a kiss to his lips. “For me? Please?”

Erich squints at Kisuke, trying — and failing — to read the man’s expression without the benefit of his glasses. “You didn’t care before,” he tests.

“I did. Why do you think there were always snacks out around the shoten?” Kisuke asks, fingers tracing across Erich’s back soothingly. “You made it clear you didn’t appreciate my ‘unwarranted concern’ early on, so… Tessai and I did what we could.” He shrugs and gives an awkward laugh, saying, “I hope you no longer resent my interest in your well-being?”

He sighs and leans into Kisuke’s touch. “No,” he admits. “I don’t. Not anymore.” Even now he can’t precisely fault his past self for the fear and wariness he’d approached Kisuke with; the idea that a _Reaper_ is interested in his wellbeing _still_ feels like a dream some days.

(Back then, it would have been more akin to a nightmare.)

Yet the idea that all the snacks had been left out for _him_ was… confusing. He’d noticed it soon after he’d begun visiting more than once a week, back when they were still barely allies, and had thought little of it.

(Something set out for the teens, he’d guessed. Not for him.)

“Why?” Erich asks before Kisuke can speak again, then clarifies, “The food. You barely knew me. I was just… a Quincy soul imposing myself on the Living World.”

“You were important to Uryuu, even so early, and Uryuu is important to Ichigo, and I’d already used him poorly,” Kisuke explains with regret. “It wasn’t much, but… it was something we could do.”

“That’s hardly—” Erich cuts himself off with a grimace, rubbing at his forehead in exasperation. Not everything needs to be questioned or analyzed, he reminds himself. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “I know it turned out, and that we’re discussing _me_ , but…”

Kisuke chuckles. “Yoruichi and I were both keeping an eye on you most of the time. It was hardly foolproof, but the chances of you _succeeding_ at anything if you were here to cause trouble were limited.” He wraps both arms around Erich, lifting him up and rising from their bed before Erich can register the movement.

Erich bites back a startled noise and glares at Kisuke. “Do you _have_ to?”

“Mou, but you didn’t mind last night, sweetheart,” Kisuke says with a smirk.

Heat rises across his face at the memory. “That’s— that’s different,” he protests.

“True,” Kisuke agrees. “But this view is almost as good.”

“You are incorrigible,” Erich grumbles as Kisuke sets him on his feet next to the dresser. He stretches carefully, ignoring the feeling of Kisuke’s gaze on him as he does. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?”

“Mmm… admiring my lover, or getting dressed… I wonder.”

“ _Incorrigible_ ,” Erich repeats, pulling open one of the drawers and reaching in. He tosses some of Kisuke’s clothing over his shoulder and smirks at his lover’s squawk of protest as the clothing hits him.

“You weren’t even _looking!_ ”

“I’m a _sniper_ , Kisuke, and you’re barely a meter away.”

“Behind you!”

Erich turns his head to give Kisuke an unimpressed look. “And shining like a beacon to my senses. Get _dressed_ , Kisuke. You’re the one who insisted on breakfast.”

Kisuke laughs and that’s enough for Erich. He turns back to the dresser and opens a different drawer, fishing out underwear and pants for himself and pulling them on, then hesitates over the shirts. It’s late enough in the morning that no one is likely to be around but for Tessai and Yoruichi, and he’s feeling lazy.

Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls open the first drawer again and grabs one of Kisuke’s tops. It’s loose and soft against his skin as he pulls it on, with traces of Kisuke’s power lingering throughout, and Erich can’t regret the choice.

“My, my,” Kisuke murmurs, wrapping his arms around Erich’s waist and pressing a kiss to the base of Erich’s neck. “Are you trying to kill me, love? Because seeing you like this is perilously close.” His hands carefully fold the shirt closed then tie it in place, before one slides up Erich’s chest and slips underneath the fabric.

Kisuke’s fingers rub across his nipple and a breathy whine escapes before Erich can swallow it back. Before Kisuke can do anything _else_ to scatter his wits, Erich captures the man’s hand and pulls it away from his chest. “I’m rethinking this choice _right now_ ,” he says as sternly as he can, though he doesn’t pull away.

“Mou, so cruel.”

“You’re the one who said I was trying to kill him.”

“Only the best kind of death,” Kisuke says, tone smug. “Slain by the sight of my love wearing _my_ clothing.”

Erich sighs and lets his head drop back to rest on Kisuke’s shoulder, giving Kisuke as much of a deadpan look as he can at this angle. “Can you keep your hands to yourself through breakfast? If not, I’m changing shirts to something less likely to make you molest me in front of other people.”

“Molest is such a strong word,” Kisuke protests.

“Yoruichi is a letch who I’d rather not give _ideas_ to, and Tessai _really_ isn’t interested in seeing what we get up to,” Erich says with a grimace. “I… I’m not…”

“I know, love,” Kisuke murmurs, kissing the corner of Erich’s mouth and carefully disentangling himself. “Nothing too sexual in public spaces, I promise. The view will be more than plenty.”

Erich sighs at the loss of Kisuke’s warmth against his back and adjusts the way the shirt falls. He’s still showing more of his bare chest than he’s usually comfortable with in public, but the private spaces of the shoten aren’t _really_ ‘in public’, even if the teens tend to walk in and out whenever they feel like.

He picks up his glasses and doesn’t bother with socks, just walks barefoot across the room to the door, and says, “Since you’re the one insisting we get up, _I’m_ using the bathroom first.”

Kisuke’s laughter follows him down the hallway, and Erich has to wonder if he’s fallen for one of Kisuke’s tricks again. He probably has; Kisuke plays (mostly) harmless tricks the way other people breathe, and Erich needs to be more awake (and less lethargic) if he wants to avoid them.

Once in the bathroom, Erich considers his reflection, trailing fingers over the column of his neck and across his jawline. Kisuke left no marks the previous evening, which is a bit of a relief; as amusing as the teens’ reactions to finding evidence of their relationship can be, marks like _that_ are a bit… too much. Too _private_ for Erich to feel comfortable displaying.

(Pieces of passion he wants to hoard for himself, for no one else to see or share.)

Erich drops his hand away and sets about his morning routine. His hair is — predictably — a mess, and his stubble is just long enough to be sharp; he makes a token attempt at taming his hair (it fails) and makes a better attempt at shaving, then washes off his face, cleans his glasses, and calls it good enough.

Kisuke, Tessai, and Yoruichi are all in the dining room, sitting around the table and chatting as they dish out food for themselves. The spot to Kisuke’s left is set for him, food already on his plate, and Erich has to sigh at the sight. Of course Kisuke would do that.

Erich crosses the room and takes his seat, nudging Kisuke with his elbow as he does. “Being a bit overprotective, aren’t we?” Erich asks, before the difference between what’s on his plate versus everyone else’s sinks in. “ _Kisuke_ ,” he growls.

“Maa, I thought you liked curry bread?” Kisuke asks with a bright, cheerful smile.

“That’s not the _point_.” Erich pinches the bridge of his nose, and sends an apologetic look to Tessai. “I apologize, you didn’t need to do this.”

“It’s fine, Erich-san,” Tessai tells him. “I had the leftovers, and it was no trouble to make the bread.”

Erich wants to argue, to protest Tessai going out of his way to make an entirely different dish _just for him_ , but he’s also seen Tessai tell Kisuke no more than once. If the man didn’t want to, he wouldn’t have, and arguing about it when Tessai’s already gone through the effort is a waste of both their time.

“Thank you, then,” he tells Tessai instead, before giving Kisuke an exasperated look. “Next time, _don’t._ Miso soup is just fine.”

“It isn’t,” Kisuke disagrees with a frown. “Not for you. It’s not enough right now and we both know it.”

Erich shrugs awkwardly and focuses back on his plate, picking up one of the pieces and biting into it to avoid needing to answer. It’s _delicious_ , and he can’t help but savor it; he usually doesn’t bother requesting anything from Tessai, so having one of his favorites for breakfast is a nice surprise.

(Even if it’s because Kisuke is trying to bribe him into eating more.)

Kisuke’s arm settles around his waist as the man leans in. “See?” he murmurs into Erich’s ear. “This isn’t so bad, is it? Good food, good company… what more could you want?”

“A nap,” Erich suggests dryly as he finishes the first piece and reaches for another.

“Well, I suppose I could wear you out enough for one,” Kisuke says with a smirk.

Erich rolls his eyes and gently nudges Kisuke back. “That is not what I meant and you know it.”

Kisuke laughs and straightens up, hand lingering on Erich’s waist and expression mischievous. “Of course it wasn’t, love.”

Yoruichi distracts both of them by gagging and then flopping onto her side, limbs splayed out and tail drooping listlessly over the edge of the table. “I’m dead,” she announces. “Killed by the two of you.”

“Good,” Erich says dryly. “Maybe then we can get work done without commentary.” He smirks at Yoruichi’s offended look, then picks up another piece of curry bread and leans into Kisuke _just enough_ to be noticeable.

Tessai makes an amused sound, and Kisuke’s arm tightens around Erich’s waist again as the man snickers at Yoruichi.

It’s… comfortable. Domestic.

(It feels like home.)


End file.
